Chrysalis Ch9: King of the Market (pt1) (Patreon)

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“NOW HANG ON JUST A BLEEDIN MINUTE.”  Ian roars, his hand tightening around the tire iron in the bag.   “No one’s taking anyone’s head-”

If the King is concerned at all she doesn’t show it.  The King settles into a perch, leaning out over the desk, staring at Lloyd with those huge, dark eyes. Just beyond her he can see the skulls, grinning and gleaming.

Lloyd tries to take a step back, one arm on Ian to push him along - but his hand won't respond. Neither will his leg. It's like he’s been rooted to the spot, fixed in place by the intensity of her focus. Lloyd gives a strangled cough, unable to even look away.

Ian looks from Lloyd to the King, his emotions swirling.   Gripping Lloyd by the shoulder he tries to pull him towards the exit.

"Loyd mate... we’re leaving.  Now.  We’ll try our luck somewhere else.  Anywhere else.  I promised I was gonna keep you safe, yeah?"

"I can't…”  Lloyd answers rigidly.   Ian looks finally to his friend, and is startled by the uncomfortably tight way Lloyd is holding himself.

“I can't move." Lloyd says again in a whisper to Ian, struggling to catch his breath.

Ian can feel all the blood drain out of his face as he’s forced to stand on the sidelines and watch his friend face down mortal peril.   Again.

“We do believe we asked you a question, little nymph.”
The king reiterates, giving an amused flick of her tail.

"W-what do I think… of you t-taking my head?”  Lloyd repeats.

“I…
…I don't think I like that idea.
I d-don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He forces himself to smile.

" W-with all due respect.  Your Majesty."

"Oh no?"   The King asks, tilting her head to the side.  Behind Lloyd, the curtain door rustles. His antennae swivel, tracking tiny, furtive movements. Green-gold eyes kindle to life in the darkest corners of the office.

"... perhaps it is.  Perhaps it isn't,” the king continues, pacing the length of the desk. “We shouldn’t expect someone like yourself to understand our royal obligations.  What a silly idea this audience was… a monarch asking a moth for advice."

Now it’s more than just eyes. Cats slink in the periphery of Lloyd’s vision, gazing up at him hungrily, their tails flicking back and forth. Flashes of velvet paws and the tips of fangs. The worm in the jar collapses, curling up to hide its eye. Ian gives a strangled cough, one hand on his jacket.

"But...you did have it, though… the idea to ask us what to do." He offers, his voice wavering. "Y-you asked for us specifically, didn't you? So you must have thought…

- wait."

Something strikes him. Lloyd's antennae rise excitedly, his eyes flashing.

"You...invited us down here, your Majesty. Doesn't that make us…
guests?"

The king watches in silence for a few moments, the shadows swirling and pulsing, every half-seen patch of gloom suggesting tufts of fur and needle-sharp claws. Finally, she closes her eyes, breathing out a mildly irritated sigh.

"Yes, we suppose you are.”

The king sits, her face wrinkling in annoyance. Half a second later, every cat in the room does as well, mirroring her motion exactly.

At the same time, Lloyd stumbles forward and gasps, as control is returned to his body. He has to grab Ian's arm to keep from dropping to the floor again.

"We're safe," he whispers to Ian, his antennae twitching "...for the moment. So long as we remain respectful, she has to remain hospitable.  I wasn’t sure if she was bound by fae rules, but it looks like she is.  So just… don’t do anything rude"   Ian nods his understanding, watching the corners of the room nervously.

“Rude like not bringing a proper gift?”  The king interrupts.   Her eyes shimmer and Lloyd can feel the eyes of all the others fix on him.

Lloyd raises his voice, finding it slightly stronger than it was before.

"But...I can! Er. Give you a gift, I mean.
What you wanted in the first place.
Advice."

The king tilts her head, and the room rustles as the motion is repeated, dozens and dozens of cats looking quizzically at Lloyd.

"Advice?  As a gift?"
She looks up in thought, toying with the idea.
"We are not sure that counts.

You are welcome to try though. If that’s all you have to offer the King of the market.”

"Ah!”  Lloyd starts, patting at his hoodie while searching for something - anything - that might be seen as a respectable token.  “Th-that and also…!”

He tries to hide it, but a cold chill runs down his spine.  There's nothing.
He gives Ian an urgent look, poking at the duffel bag still dangling from his shoulder.  The King keeps one ear turned toward them, but doesn’t deign to interrupt.

"Please tell me we have something besides clothes and a tire iron." He whispers frantically. Ian frowns, sorting through their motley collection of earthly possessions.

"A pinch of food. Couple of things from your room.  Quid - “

"No, no, definitely not money." Lloyd hisses through his forced smile.
The king taps her tail and leans forward, unable to hide her interest.

"Oh, don't put yourself out if you didn't intend to bring us anything.” She purrs, her eyes glittering with delight. “It would be most rude to impose on a guest."

"Oh, no no no! Not an imposition! We’re happy to provide a suitable... t-token of our esteem to our unexpected host!  We’re simply… s-surprised… to receive an audience from someone of your caliber, your Majesty!"

Lloyd babbles, shoving aside half-folded clothes. His hand brushes up against something. Paper...a stack of books. Some of his novels. Ian must have packed it while he was writing the letter.  

He gives Ian a grateful look, before sorting through what they’d brought.   Encyclopedias.  Fairy books.   The usual.   But then-

His cheeks brighten in embarrassment as he catches sight of the familiar cover.  He was sure he’d lost it the night he was taken.  How had it found its way here?  Had it been recovered at the crime scene?  No one had mentioned anything, and yet there it was.   

His favorite guilty pleasure.
And their best chance to survive this.  

Snatching it out of the bag he turns and deferentially places it on top of the desk, then backs away quickly to let the king inspect his offering.

“I-I hope it p-pleases you, your majesty.”

The king saunters over to inspect it. Her eyes glitter as her nose runs across the cover, prodding at the image of the two young men locked in combat. With a delicate motion, she flicks the creased cover open, prodding at the well-turned pages inside.

After a moment, she rubs her cheek along the flaking spine, half-closing her eyes.

“This has been read seven times. A very good gift, Mr. Morgan."   She says, her tail flicking up into a surprised curl.

Ian glances down, raising a humored eyebrow.
Lloyd self consciously folds his arms over his chest.
"...s-sometimes you catch parts you missed the first time through, all right?"

The king moves aside as a long-haired black-and-white tabby leaps up onto the desk, crouching down over the book and hiding it under a spray of fur. Satisfied, the King turns back to them, her tail waving gracefully.

Lloyd gives the cat lounging on the book one regretful glance, then smiles hesitantly at the king.

"I'm just happy we could live up to your standards, your Majesty."  His antennae swivel, tracking a soft breeze in the air as several of the cats twitch their tails. "Extremely happy."

The king's lids lower, a low, rumbling purr echoing behind her voice.
"It is our pleasure to have you. Now. About your head..."

"I'd like to keep it." Lloyd says earnestly, a wave of dizziness washing over him.

The king chuckles, shaking her head in an eerily human gesture.
"You would, would you? We suppose it isn't particularly courteous to take the head of a guest."

She stretches out a paw, examining each claw tip in turn.

"You must understand, there is no malice in our decision. Not towards you, in any case. You are the object that the Lady Astraea desires. She has broken the laws of our domain in pursuit of you. Therefore, the clearest way to demonstrate that our authority holds is through you. Our paws are tied, as it were.”

Lloyd nods warily. Maybe she means it, or maybe she’s just trying to trick him into being impolite. Either way, though, this is still a conversation. One hand unconsciously drifts up to his neck.

"All right, hear me out. It...yes, I suppose she would be upset."

A blaze of light flashes through his mind.  Branches crushing him in their grasp.  Astraea's anguished yell. Blood.   Open air.  Lloyd shoves the memory away, taking a deep breath.

"But...that's the thing, isn't it? She would be upset. At you, this time. And she's not afraid of damaging your Market, or she wouldn't have done it in the first place."

Lloyd gives her a sickly smile.

"I only have one head. What are you going to take when she vaporizes your entire market?"

The King smiles wider, her eyes and teeth flashing white. Hungry and vicious.

"If Lady Astraea would like to go to war with the Market, we would be more than delighted to forgo the customary propriety she is so eager to discard. We will drag her kicking and screaming into the darkness, where we can do unspeakable things to her for as long as she breathes. We believe that would send a satisfactory message."

She blinks, and her eyes return to normal.
"You will have to do much better than that, little moth."

"Oh. Well. Of course."
Lloyd chuckles nervously.

"But wouldn't it be...better to avoid all that mess?
The whole point is to keep her from… from having me, right?”

“That's what I want, too.”

“Why not just let us stay here? Where she can't get to me, without the…’kicking and screaming into the darkness’ plan? I could be useful, I..."

He holds up his hands, a tiny bead of sweat rolling down his cheek.
"I’ve been working in a shop for ages. It can’t be all that different, can it?"

The king stares at him, her eyes half-closed.

“Arranging employment for you? Granting you our protection? This sort of desperation is understandable, Mr. Morgan, but it grows tiresome. We fail to see how this would suitably chasten Lady Astraea.”

“Because I’m going this fucking far to get away from her!”

Lloyd blurts out. He surprises himself with the anger in his voice.  The king tilts her head quizzically as he swallows, continuing.

“She broke your laws coming after me, right?  So deny her what she wants, in front of everyone!  What’s going to hurt her worse, killing me once?  Or keeping me here indefinitely.”

“That’s what you want right?  A life for a life?
You’re taking me from her, either way.
And this way I get to agree to it.  Bloody hell, I asked for it.”

“That’s going to hurt her.
It’ll hurt her way worse than anything you and your market can do.”

Lloyd’s breathing hard, his heart pounding.  It’s an insane gambit.  Coming back to his senses, he immediately steps back, averting his eyes.

“... with all due respect.”

If the king is offended at his outburst, she doesn’t show it.  Instead she sits there silently, no sign of any change except her irises.

Slowly at first, they expand and swallow up her sclera until all that’s left are deep obsidian pools.

Abruptly she stands, her tail and hackles going up, and she jumps sideways towards Lloyd. He flinches back, only to freeze as she starts to rumble.

She’s purring. Loudly.

"Oh we do like the way you think little Moth!"   The king says, pacing in a tight circle as she thinks aloud.  "Killing is one thing, but ensuring she feels your disapproval…?  A servant spurning their superior? Openly and without remorse?  Outrageous.  Profoundly insulting.  Not without its risks, but the market is no stranger to gambling with lives.

Her tail puffs out, and she sits down, aggressively licking at her paw.
“Yes, we do think we will consider your gambit.   Reckless as it may be.
It would indeed be a satisfactory, lasting statement.”

Lloyd’s stomach twists.
"I'm...I’m glad you approve." He replies shakily, watching her in morbid fascination. “So you're definitely going to leave my...my skull alone, then?"

The king pauses cleaning just long enough to answer.

"A life was taken, Mr. Morgan. This must be answered in kind. Your head belongs to our Market, whether or not the rest of you remains attached. This is not an offer of temporary employment, but a position you will remain at. A visible one, we think.”

“You will need to seek the approval of the establishment to make good on this.  However… as long as they agree to it, these terms are acceptable to us.”

The king returns to washing her paw, scrubbing at her ear with it until it turns inside out.  “Is this bargain acceptable to you, Mr. Morgan?”

Lloyd's wings shudder against the binder, sending aches through his shoulders. The room feels much smaller than it did a moment ago.

Was this Lyra's plan?
Had he just trapped himself?
Had he just trapped both of them?

The image of the white jacket flashes through his mind.

"I wouldn’t… have to wear a white jacket again, would I?"

"No. " The king chirps.  “You would be under our employ, and therefore under our protection. That is what you wanted, is it not?"

Lloyd nods his understanding, his head swirling.   Everything feels so far away all of a sudden.

"Then… I accept."

Lloyd hears himself answer, simply. A shiver goes down his spine, and something makes his antennae tingle. He isn't quite sure what, but it makes him nervous.  Then he realizes.  The other cats, the wirling mass of them, have simply...vanished. It is once again just himself, Ian, the worm on the table and the King.

Lloyd’s eyes dart back to the king, who’s watching him with mild interest. He swallows.

"So… we'll be safe?
Both of us?"

"Both of you?"    The king asks, then perks up, her eyes swiveling to Ian. "... oh... yes, Mr. Evans.  Are you saying you would like to join Mr Morgan?"

Ian takes a shaky step forward.

"There isn't a place Lloyd's goin that I'm not following, yeah?”  He places his hand on Lloyd’s shoulder. Despite the shakiness in Ian’s voice, his grip is strong, if not a little possessive.

It’s comforting.

The king looks him over, then sneezes. An incongruously tiny sound.

"We only have business with Mr Morgan, but if you are able to secure employment in the market of course our protection will extend to you as well."

She hops down, circles to the leftmost door, and pushes at the heavy cloth with her nose.  Her tail curls and flicks, beckoning them to follow.  "Come along now. As it so happens, we have just the place for you little nymph."

And just like that, it's decided.

Lloyd grabs Ian's hand, holding tight to it as he follows the king to the curtain by the window. Hesitantly, he lifts it aside, eyes darting into the corners of the room to check for any cats following behind him.

"Thank you for your understanding, your Majesty." Lloyd says, his voice hoarse and quiet. The eerie lights of the Market play over his face as he draws back into the robes.

"And your hospitality."

Something rattles, and he glances back. The worm in the jar is pressing up against the glass again, tilting it slightly before it rocks back into place. It flattens itself against the side, eye flicking back and forth nervously.

Lloyd hesitates, shifting uncertainly.
"If...if it's all right to ask…
what's going to happen to the… to that worm?"

"Oh, him?"   The king says, pausing and sniffing speculatively in the worm’s direction.  "We had considered eating him. Why do you ask?  Are you hungry?"

Lloyd turns a faint shade of green.

"O-oh. No, no. But..."

The worm rocks the glass again, desperately trying to escape. It tries to tilt itself over, then collapses to the bottom, huddling up in a tiny pile. It doesn't seem nearly as fearsome as it had when it was looming over the cage a few days before, reaching in to taste his wings.

Now it was Lloyd who was the one doing the looming.
His gaze softens on the little, desperate creature.

"He doesn't look very appetizing, does he?"

The king looks from the little worm, to Lloyd.

"You are still our guest, as well as our newest retainer. Is there some other fate you would judge to be suitable?”

"I...I don't really know."

Lloyd rubs at his head, his antennae quivering. It's all so much. He wants to just sit down and process the trouble he's gotten them into now, to work out what Lyra could have been possibly thinking. The last thing he wants to worry about is whatever's left of the monster that tried to eat him his first day here. And yet...

"It just reminds me of some of the bugs I used to keep. That's all."

"Lloyd... yer not seriously suggesting we-" Ian says, looking back at the little creature.

"Would you like...a gift, then?"   The king asks, interrupting Ian, her eyes sparkling in amusement.

Lloyd blinks, looking at the jar. The worm uncurls slightly, a thin sliver of orange staring hopefully back.


continue reading ->

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Thanks for reading along!   Be sure to check in Friday December 17th to read Ch9.2!   In which Ian meets a brownie.   Lloyd auditions for a gig.   The king continues being a cat.